Dreams and Expectations (Sample of Published version)
by Wendi 'Triplet Mom' Sotis
Summary: Mr. Darcy and Elizabeth quickly recognize their feelings for each other and form a friendship, but misunderstandings, and a bit of adventure, blur their path to happiness. Regency. (PLEASE NOTE: Sample of Published version)
1. Prologue - Sample of Published version

_Dreams and Expectations_ was posted here from

August 21, 2010 through October 31, 2010

The story has been re-written and published (yippee!)

The following is the prologue and the first three chapters

of the **published** version of the story.

Dreams & Expectations Copyright © 2010 Wendi Sotis

* * *

**Dreams ****&**

**Expectations**

**By Wendi Sotis **

Copyright © 2010 Wendi Sotis

* * *

**Prologue**

**August 25, 1796**

_Have I not waited long enough? _Sighing deeply, the twelve-year-old boy made an effort to still his impatience. Surely being summoned to his mother's bedside now was an assurance that better times would soon return! Nothing had been the same during the endless weeks of her recovery.

His gaze wandered over the sitting room—each corner and every piece of furniture conjured happy memories. Whenever he heard the word _home_, his thoughts made their way here, to his parents' chambers.

_This_ is where he had always felt most loved.

When appearing in public as the Master and Mistress of this great estate, as well as the daughter and son-in-law of an earl, his parents' behaviour was reserved and indifferent. But here, out of sight of the servants and far from the eyes of society, those masks were cast aside. After crossing the threshold to these rooms, the love and respect that each held for the other was openly displayed; their witty banter had always been a delight to observe. Those occasions always ended too soon.

His attention was caught by the door to his father's rooms. Recollections took shape in his mind—great stretches of time had been devoted to examining the process of his father being shaved, observing the addition of the many layers of finely tailored clothing that was proper for a gentleman to wear, and dreaming of the day that _he_ would undergo similar preparations to be considered presentable. While there, they discussed many subjects, ranging from the everyday management of the estate to politics or philosophy. Father had always shown an interest in his son's opinion, challenging him to expand his mind.

The young man grinned, remembering the time that Father had allowed _him_ to be shaved, even though he had not yet had whiskers! It had been a struggle to remain still as the valet requested. The amusement in his father's eyes as he looked on was a cherished memory. Afterward, he had even been permitted to splash on a bit of cologne.

A noise emanated from his mother's chambers. He could almost hear his mother's gentle voice reminding him, "A gentleman does not slouch, dear." Automatically, he sat up straighter, anticipating a servant about to call him in. Still the door did not open.

The young man reclined against the cushions and sighed once again.

Oh, all the pleasant hours had he spent watching magic being performed as the maid had arranged his mother's hair! They two would take advantage of that time to discuss any subject that came to mind. His mother would instruct him in the typically unspoken laws of their level of society—the highest circles of the _ton._

When once he had expressed his feelings that a rule seemed ridiculous to him, she had explained, "Even if we personally do not agree, we must follow these rules. If not, all of our relations shall suffer dire consequences! It is essential that we avoid catching the attention of the gossips whenever possible."

One of his favourite pastimes had always been watching his mother brush out her waist-length hair before she tucked him in at night. He would marvel at the many different shades of gold that wound through her locks—as if each strand were a colour all its own.

The sound of the door to his mother's bedchamber pulled the boy from his reverie. The housekeeper stepped aside, and the nurse to his sister exited the room, carrying the wiggling babe.

Smiling widely, he moved toward them and pulled the blanket away from his sister's sweet face. Adoration welled up within his chest at the sight her. The blue of her eyes and the gold of the miniscule wisp of hair upon her head were similar to their mother's, but that is not what endeared her to him so greatly. Though the adults told him she was yet too young, he was convinced that she smiled whenever she saw him.

He slipped his finger into her tiny hand, and she grasped it firmly. "Good morning, Georgiana! Have you been to visit with Mother?" Bending, he kissed the fist that tightened further around his finger.

Glancing at the housekeeper, his grin disappeared when he noticed her eyes were filled with tears. Before he could ask if all was well, she spoke. "Master Fitzwilliam, Mrs. Darcy will see you now."

Young Darcy kissed his sister's soft cheek before wrapping the blanket more securely around her. The nurse bobbed a curtsey and left the room.

Though he wished to throw open the door and rush into her arms, the boy caught himself. Determined to impress his mother with his gentleman-like conduct, he smoothed his coat, corrected his posture, and walked slowly to the door. He had almost passed through it when he recalled the wildflowers that he had collected for his mother.

A few steps into the room, he stopped, shocked at the dark and gloomy atmosphere. The scent that accosted him was frightening, though there were even more arrangements of roses than was usual.

Empty was her customary place at the dressing table, as was her favourite window seat where she would read at this time of day.

At a nudge from the housekeeper, he turned; she nodded toward the bed.

_Mother is __**still **__unwell? _Theyoung man approached the bed, but the woman who rested there he did not recognize. About to order her from his mother's rooms, he felt his heart stop when she opened her eyes. They sparkled like blue diamonds.

He gasped sharply. _No!_ his thoughts screamed. _Why has no one informed me?!_

Lady Anne tried her best to smile and lifted her hand, holding it out toward him.

Young Darcy's hand lifted automatically in response. Only then did he realize that he had stopped several paces away from the bed. He moved quickly toward her, using care to be very gentle when taking her hand. Because her appearance was more pale and sickly than he had thought possible for anyone, he was afraid that he would crush her bones if he applied too much pressure.

She whispered hoarsely, "I have missed you, William."

The young man swallowed hard past the tightness that had developed in his throat. "I missed you very much as well, Mother."

"You have met your sister?"

He nodded. Her voice was so soft, more like a whisper—he had to hold his breath to hear it. "I cannot help but love her dearly already."

Her smile widened. "I am happy to hear it." She coughed, and he helped her take a sip from a glass of water that the maid handed to him. "Will you sit with me for a while? I wish to speak to you..."

"Yes, ma'am," he agreed when her voice trailed off, and then pulled a chair closer. She held out her hand once again. Her skin was so fragile, almost like the outer layer of the onions the cook used.

Remembering the flowers in his other hand, he held them up.

"They are beautiful, William. Thank you."

Lady Anne made a slight gesture, and the maid scurried off, returning with a vase. His flowers were displayed in a place of honour—upon the small table at the side of her bed. Her next motion sent the servants out of hearing range.

She spoke in short bursts. "My son, I have always been proud of your every accomplishment. You are so good, and so very kind. My love for you has grown stronger as each day passes." She hesitated. "William... I – I will not have the opportunity to tell your sister..."

He could not breathe. _Mother is dying!_

Lady Anne paused a few moments to catch her breath before she continued, her voice weaker than ever, "Will you explain to Georgiana? She and I have spent only a short a time together, but I love her very much."

His throat had constricted to a point that would not allow speech. The young man nodded.

"Promise me, William... take good care of your father and sister." Falling into a severe fit of coughing, she grasped his hand tighter than he thought possible. Her eyes communicated a desperate need to go on. She barely wheezed, "You _must_ marry well! Promise me that you will marry well."

Realizing that it would be better for her if she rested before he begged for an explanation of the meaning of the last promise, he decided to inquire the following day. Young Darcy vowed, "I promise that I will, Mother!"

Soon after, her cough quieted, and Lady Anne fell into a deep sleep. Mrs. Reynolds, the housekeeper, caught his eye and motioned toward the door.

The boy tenderly kissed his mother's cheek and gazed upon her for a few moments more before leaving her to rest.

Lady Anne Darcy néeFitzwilliam did not awaken again.

_**~%~**_

The day following Lady Anne's death, her sister Lady Catherine de Bourgh entered the library in search of her brother-in-law. The room seemingly empty, she turned to continue her search elsewhere. A noise caused her to hesitate.

"Who is there?"

Something halfway between a gulp and a sob was heard, and then all fell silent. Lady Catherine moved in the direction from which she perceived the sound. "I demand that you show yourself this instant!"

The figure of a boy emerged from under a desk in a far corner of the room and swiped at his face with his sleeve.

"Fitzwilliam George Darcy! How _dare_ you bring shame upon the memory of your mother?"

Wide-eyed, he gasped. "I did not mean to... I would never..."

Her eyes tightened. "Nephew! Are you so weak-minded that you cannot recall anything that you have learned? A _true_ gentleman must not display his emotions for others to see."

A crimson flush crept up young Darcy's face.

Lady Catherine sat down; her form rigid, she folded her hands in her lap. With a slight nod of her head, the corners of her lips turned slightly upwards. She murmured under her breath, "Yes... I can see it!" Her eyes gleamed in a way that sent a chill down her nephew's spine. The young man shrugged off a feeling of impending doom. Though he had no warm feelings for this aunt, he was certain that his mother's sister would do nothing to harm him.

"Well then, nephew. It is lucky that it was _I_ who came across you and not Mr. Darcy. If your father had found you crying, he would have been deeply ashamed—his son and heir behaving in such a disgraceful manner!" She shook her head from side to side. "A gentleman does _not_ cry, ever!"

Mortified, young Darcy bowed his head and silently swore that he would never cry again.

"You must be properly directed in the customs of the _ton_... now, before you are too set in your ways." She nodded. "I shall see to it."

Since his aunt seemed so well informed in the ways of society, he asked quietly, "Aunt Catherine? Perhaps you will..."

"This is precisely the type of situation in which I shall do you good. You must enunciate _clearly_, Fitzwilliam, or you will never garner the respect that your birthright deserves!"

Young Darcy straightened his frame. "Aunt, can you explain what my mother meant when she told me to marry well?"

Lady Catherine smiled strangely. Looking down her nose at him, she said in a voice full of condescension, "Of course I can! You must marry for wealth and consequence, Fitzwilliam. Your mother was confident that you will do your duty to all the family. You have been chosen for a noble task—to continue the alliance between three great families. The Darcy, Fitzwilliam, and de Bourgh lines will be irrevocably bound into the next generation through your marriage to your mother's namesake, my daughter Anne."

His brow furrowed. "But..."

"Your mother expected it of you, Fitzwilliam... as do we all."

The young man spent much of that day wondering why his mother had gone to the trouble of saying "marry well" when she had really meant "marry Anne." But, surely his aunt would not utter a falsehood!

Since he had no reason to distrust his aunt's word, before the sun had set that day, he believed all that she had said.

_**~%~**_

Devastated by his wife's passing, George Darcy was never quite the same thereafter. In his grief, he neglected those special moments the father had devoted to his heir in the past.

Being but a child, his son could comprehend only rejection, and had no idea what he could do to accomplish the first promise he had made to his mother. It seemed that no matter what he did, he caused his father additional pain.

The son became overly cautious in his behaviour as a result. Pride being the single emotion the older Darcy would vocalize in reference to his son, from then on the young man did his best to mirror that emotion and behave perfectly, hoping to please his father.

Any time they spent together was centered on reviewing the details of estate management. In rare instances, they would discuss a book they both had read. Though before his mother's death those had been subjects that young Darcy looked forward to talking over with his father, after his mother had passed on, he was too filled with an anxious need to seek his approval to enjoy those occasions.

As the years passed, Mrs. Reynolds had often noted aloud that while Georgiana grew to resemble their mother very closely physically, the young master had many of the same mannerisms and facial expressions as his mother. Young Darcy speculated that being near his children was too painful a reminder of all that his father had lost, but the son's understanding alone could not bring about reconciliation.

Ten years after his wife had passed on, Mr. George Darcy was laid to rest beside Lady Anne in the family graveyard within the grounds of Pemberley. At the tender age of two and twenty, their son became master of one of the grandest estates in all of England, and co-guardian to his much younger sister.


	2. Chapter 1- Sample of Published version

_Dreams and Expectations_

has been re-written and published (yippee!)

The following is part

of the **published** version of the story.

* * *

Dreams & Expectations Copyright © 2010 Wendi Sotis

* * *

**Chapter 1**

_You were made perfectly to be loved – and surely I have loved you, in the idea of you, my whole life long._

_-Elizabeth Barrett Browning (English Poet 1806-1861)_

**Tuesday, October 15, 1811**

_As he slowed his horse to a walk, his gaze swept across the landscape of the place he believed to afford the perfect prospect. The lake reflected a beautifully clear sky and a mirror image of Pemberley House. His eyes were drawn toward the vision of loveliness that strode in his direction. The sight of her never failed to take his breath away; skin glowing with health that came from long walks in the sunshine, eyes sparkling with intelligence and wit. At the moment she noticed him nearing, a bewitching smile spread across her lips._

"_Perfect!" he breathed._

_He allowed the reins to fall to the ground as he dismounted and drank in her form, reveling in the grace of her movements as she approached him._

_She came to stand before him, their bodies almost touching, and her eyes captured his. His breath quickened; her scent nearly overwhelmed his senses._

_She raised a hand to caress his cheek, and he bowed his head to meet her touch. Bestowing upon him the gentlest of kisses, she then pulled back to look in his eyes. His heart rejoiced to recognize his own feelings reflected within her soul._

_Winding his arms around her waist, he delighted in the feel of every inch of her body pressed against his. Lips met again and again. As he savored the taste of her love for him, her delicate fingers laced through his hair. The kiss deepened._

_Though he felt he should never need to breathe again as long as she was near, his lungs rebelled. They pulled apart after one last gentle kiss._

_Her saucy grin reached her eyes. "Have you had your fill of exercise for one morning, or would you rather join me?"_

"_A walk, perhaps, or would you like to receive the riding lessons I promised you?"_

"_I think not today, my love. My mind was turned more toward indoor activities. You are in desperate need of a bath, and I was looking forward to… assisting. I am certain the opportunity of other forms of exercise will soon present itself."_

_The expression in her eyes made him gasp softly. "I do believe that can be arranged," he responded, his voice husky, whilst bending closer for another kiss..._

Fitzwilliam Darcy awakened with a start and turned away from the glare of dawn's rays filtering through the open window. He burrowed further into the bedding and fought to hold on to the fading memory of the way _she_ had felt in his arms. In the end, he had to reconcile himself to the truth—it had been only a dream.

As his gaze swept the room, recognition seeped through his sluggish musings. He sighed. _N__etherfield... and yet __**a**__**nother**__ day of enduring Caroline Bingley's relentless attentions._

Although willing to put up with much for his good friend's sake, he had to admit that after spending a fortnight at Charles Bingley's new home, the situation was becoming almost too difficult to bear.

Bingley's elder sister Mrs. Hurst's habit of invariably repeating the opinions of those around her had long since become excessively annoying. The observation of her husband's seemingly permanent state of inebriation had, at first, proven distracting, but he soon found this diversion to grow monotonous.

Still, the notion of shortening his visit would never have occurred to him if not for the presence of Bingley's other sister. After two weeks of suffering through Caroline Bingley's relentlessly enthusiastic pursuit of him, Darcy was tempted to escape to London—to be blissfully alone.

The only housemate who exhibited the smallest of sense was Bingley himself, but even this good fortune seemed to be coming to an end.

Last evening, his host had said, "I believe I will enjoy country living. All of the gentlemen in the area are quite sociable. Since our arrival, they have paid more visits than I had expected, and we have received many invitations. In answer to your references to a lack of activity, Caroline, you should be pleased to know that during my ride into the village today, I purchased tickets to the local assembly so that we may meet the families of all of our new neighbours. Sir William promises a superior time will be had by all!"

Once Caroline had recovered from tittering laughter, she answered, "Yes, of course! The local populous must be _overjoyed_ to have true gentlemen such as Mr. Darcy and you in the neighbourhood." A slight sneer appeared upon her features, "But I do not believe that attending this assembly is at all necessary! While a country assembly might be considered 'superior' to _this_ society, I have no doubt that it would seem primitive when compared to what we are accustomed to in London. If nothing else, think of Mr. Darcy, brother. He dislikes dancing so completely."

Darcy remembered thinking that if Caroline had thought as highly of _his_ comfort as she pretended to do at that moment, she would have excused him from dancing with her as she knew he disliked the activity.

"And _I_ think that going out into society is just the thing to break Darcy's gloomy disposition of late! I insist that we shall go. Besides, I have already purchased the tickets... we cannot back out now."

Darcy shook his head—how did Bingley expect _this_ event to resolve his gloomy disposition? He was aware only that Darcy was "uncomfortable with strangers." Darcy wondered how his friend would react if his true level of discomfort at events such as these was known to him.

An evening which promised being surrounded by strangers—matchmaking mamas and mercenary young ladies certain to be among them—was notDarcy's idea of a pleasant time. It tended more towards torture from his perspective.

Darcy moaned aloud and buried his head under a pillow. Every fibre of his being was yearning to escape into sleep, eagerly craving to be delivered into the arms of the woman who had haunted his dreams for a fortnight. But Morpheus had no intention of obliging his desire.

His thoughts wandered to the day that he had arrived in Hertfordshire.

Soon after departing London, he had come to understand why Bingley had hinted at riding alongside the carriage instead of within it. Three hours never seemed to take so long to pass! After Caroline Bingley's non-stop chattering and blatant attempts at flirtation, he had been in desperate need of fresh air and exercise to recompose himself. One of Netherfield's stable boys had suggested he ride to Oakham Mount, which he promised would offer the best view of the area.

Even now, Darcy was uncertain whether the lady he had observed there had been real or an illusion. Her eyes had been closed, her face tilted upward. As the light breeze played with a number of chestnut brown curls which had broken free from their confinement. Her arms had been extended slightly from her sides. To him, she had seemed an angel about to take flight, and he almost had expected her to sprout wings.

She was the most beautiful thing he had ever beheld.

As if by enchantment, he had felt as if he were being drawn toward her, but he had encountered difficulty in discerning a path through the thicket that separated them. His disappointment had been great when he reached the top and discovered no trace of her.

Darcy returned to Oakham Mount daily, even varying the time of the day after being unsuccessful in his quest, but had not come upon her a second time.

Sighing again, he decided that the stress of the past few weeks, followed by that horrid carriage ride, must have affected him more than he had realized, causing him to imagine the vision of perfection at Oakham Mount.

_Has it not been proven that there is not a woman alive who could make me feel the way I did when I saw her? I_ _must be content with simply spending time with this idealized vision in my dreams alone!_

The familiar sounds of his valet making preparations for the day pulled Darcy from his reverie.

Whether he would rather to stay in bed amongst the memories of his dream-lady mattered not; the time had come to rise and face the day—it was expected of him.

**~Meryton, Hertfordshire**

Elizabeth Bennet carefully ascended the stairs to the assembly room, following behind the other ladies of her family.

It had been a hectic day at Longbourn—a day filled with ribbons, lace, dresses, and shoes while six ladies rushed to and fro in preparation for the evening's activities. Mr. Bennet could not manage at all in this atmosphere, consequently, about halfway through breakfast he left his wife and daughters to themselves for the relative peace of having the commotion muffled by the thick wood of his library door—behind which he would remain until his family had returned from the ball.

Upon her arrival in the ballroom, Elizabeth noted that she would need to find a private place to make a few minor repairs to her gown. Her youngest sister, Lydia, in her state of anticipation of the dancing that was soon to be had, had fidgeted about in the cramped carriage and had torn Elizabeth's hem. Once civilities had been properly attended to, Elizabeth found the proprietor's wife, Mrs. Jones, and was led to a small room in which she could make her repairs.

_The light that lies in woman's eyes, has been my heart's undoing._

_-Thomas Moore (Irish Poet 1779-1852)_

The Netherfield party entered the assembly room. All sound and movement ceased as all eyes were turned toward the door.

Darcy managed to hold his blush at bay by raising _The Mask_—a severe, aloof expression behind which he usually hid when out in society to keep others as far away as possible. Though his expression may have been under good regulation, his thoughts and emotions were not. _This is worse than I had expected—even Bingley looks uncomfortable. How can anyone breathe with such a horde crushing in on him? Why must so many people crowd into this small room?_

Sensing their eyes upon him, his skin crawled, and his heart began to pound. Anxiety threatening to overwhelm him, Darcy hoped that none of these strangers would dare approach him. A clock on the far wall caught his attention, and he concentrated on the second hand to assist in breathing at regular intervals.

After what seemed like hours, but was in reality only a few moments, the crowd began to stir and converse once again. As soon as the attention of the room was no longer directed solely at their party, his anxiety lessened. Darcy carefully moved his attention from the second hand and began to take note of his surroundings. He perceived Sir William Lucas moving forward to greet them, offering to introduce the party to the neighbourhood. Darcy followed Bingley, though the remainder of their party did not deign to do the same.

Bingley chatted easily with his new neighbours in his usual cheerful manner, happily diverting attention away from him. He listened to Bingley's conversations, but could not avoid hearing the whispers around them. Darcy recognized the usual gossip of the matchmaking mamas. _Ah, so it is five thousand for Bingley and ten thousand for me this time, eh? I wonder how they make their estimations._

They neared a petite, but very _loud, _woman with graying auburn hair who was soon introduced as Mrs. Bennet. Darcy smiled internally when he recognized the puppyish look fall over Bingley's face the moment Bingley spotted the blonde beauty standing next to the matron. It was the same expression that overtook Bingley's countenance whenever he found a new object of infatuation, rendering him forgetful of all the other ladies on a seemingly never-ending list of those he had admired for brief intervals in the past.

The open manners and amiability which Bingley displayed at all times would always endear him to the loveliest lady at any gathering—and to all the other ladies as well. Bingley's good temper never allowed him to notice that these ladies battled for his attention, in a competition that was especially ruthless up until he made his preference known. Darcy sighed in relief that, this night at least, Bingley had made his selection obvious in a timelier manner than was usual. He despised witnessing the incivility that ladies displayed toward one another when they were vying for the attentions of an eligible gentleman. Darcy had noted in the past that the more amiable or rich the gentleman, the more callous the ladies became. In the five years since his father's death, some of the behaviour he had witnessed in pursuit of his inheritance had disgusted him. It was bewildering to him that Bingley observed none of it—ever. He felt it was as if it were impossible for his friend to think badly of ladies, though he seemed capable enough of recognizing abhorrent qualities amongst those of his own gender.

Taking note of the time, Darcy wondered how long it would be before he heard Bingley exclaim that this blonde beauty was "the most beautiful creature I ever beheld!" as he had with countless other ladies to date.

Mrs. Bennet went on to introduce her daughters to the gentlemen. Bingley's newest obsession was the eldest, Miss Jane Bennet.

Miss Mary, the third-born, was sitting nearby reading a book. It was a strange occupation for an assembly room, but one in which Darcy would rather be engaged. A bit envious, Darcy was disappointed that he was too distant to be able to make out the title.

The two youngest, Miss Catherine and Miss Lydia, were dancing with enthusiasm—a great deal more than was proper—attracting quite a bit of attention to their antics. Darcy was amazed at the matron's decision to allow these two out in society at so young an age since they apparently did _not _know how to comport themselves. Perhaps their behaviour would be acceptable for children playing in a field, but, even in the country, at public affairs ladies were expected to behave as _ladies_ and should not be giggling loudly and running about.

Mrs. Bennet mentioned her second eldest, but she could not locate her daughter among the crowd. "Well, it matters not; you will see Lizzy at some other time, I suppose! _She_ is of no import when my Jane is before you!" She was smiling at Bingley as if these statements were the most natural thing to say in polite society, shocking Darcy with her coarse manners. At least Miss Bennet had the decency to blush.

As Bingley applied for her favourite daughter's hand for the next dance, followed immediately by Miss Bennet's acceptance, the matron turned to Darcy to ask if he enjoyed dancing as well. Darcy was so involved with his fear of having to stand with a blatantly crass mama who had five unmarried daughters whilst Bingley enjoyed himself that he failed even to notice that Mrs. Bennet had spoken! He bowed to Mrs. Bennet and turned to join Caroline and Louisa. _Better the devil you know than the devil you do not!_ Darcy thought to himself.

Unfortunately, the distance he had retreated from her was not far enough to avoid hearing Mrs. Bennet telling anyone who would listen about his rudeness in walking away without answering her question.

_I did not hear her ask me a question! Blast! If I attempt to apologize, it would bring attention to the fact that I can hear her from such a distance, which might insult her further._

Upon joining the ladies of his own party, Darcy became the object to whom Caroline Bingley addressed her opinions of her new neighbours. As was usual, Louisa readily agreed to every word her younger sister uttered.

Seeking a distraction was usually the way that Darcy coped with Caroline Bingley's diatribes, and so the young man briefly pondered how it could have come about that the younger of Bingley's sisters dominated the elder. He speculated that Caroline had such a demanding nature that anybody with a less forceful manner could easily be intimidated by the lady. Louisa did seem to lack the self-confidence necessary to resist her overbearing sister. In all of their acquaintance, he did not remember ever hearing Louisa voice an opinion not first belonging to her husband or sister—more often the latter.

Caroline Bingley's complaints about boorish country manners were incessant enough to outlast his contemplations: the inferiority of society in Hertfordshire compared to Town, the highest ranking person in the neighbourhood was _only_ newly knighted, the decided lack of fashion, and the failure in the _attempt _to be fashionable were among the subjects of her critique. After taking a sip from her glass, she continued, noting the lack of excellence of the refreshments, the low quality of the musicians, the insufficient size of the rooms, and her imagined shabbiness of the furniture—for, though of an older design, he saw nothing lacking in its quality. These and other ceaseless grievances were grating on him excessively.

The gentleman wondered if Caroline Bingley had anything favorable to say about, or a kind word to say to, anyone whom she thought "beneath" herself. He could not recall one occasion on which she had.

She continued to prattle on, even though Darcy did not give any indication of listening. When she began to deprecate the quality of wax used for the candles, for they did not burn evenly enough for her taste, he ground his teeth to keep himself from interrupting. When she finally paused to take a breath, he excused himself immediately.

Darcy began to wander around the outskirts of the dance, looking intently at Bingley's neighbours._NOT with the hope of seeing __**her**__, of course; only out of curiosity. __**She **__exists only in my imagination, _he told himself. And yet, his eyes continued to search the crowd.


	3. Chapter 2- Sample of Published version

_Dreams and Expectations_

has been re-written and published (yippee!)

The following is part

of the **published** version of the story.

Dreams & Expectations Copyright © 2010 Wendi Sotis

* * *

**Chapter 2**

_Who ever loved that loved not at first sight?_

_-Christopher Marlowe (English poet 564–1593)_

The damage to her gown was more than Elizabeth had previously realized, and, even with Mrs. Jones's assistance, it had taken longer than she had expected to repair it well enough to avoid falling before the whole of the neighbourhood as she danced. She took one last look in the mirror before rejoining the assembly. Her curls never seemed to behave in the way she wished them to, and she tried to rearrange the ones that had been left loose to frame her face, but with little success. Her white muslin ball gown was well-worn, and Elizabeth was unsure whether or not it would survive another washing. For this evening it had been refreshed with deep green ribbons around the hem, sleeves, and neckline, and was passable. She looked well enough for her purposes, she supposed.

Judging from the bits of conversation that she overheard as she returned to the assembly room, she realized that she had missed the highly anticipated arrival of the Netherfield party. Elizabeth had her own reasons for looking forward to their joining the neighbourhood. Since she and her father enjoyed character study as a hobby, new arrivals to such a small village as Meryton would no doubt offer the opportunity for many hours' worth of diverting observation and conversation for the pair.

Elizabeth had missed part of the first set, and so she sat out the second dance. She spent the time studying the faces in the crowd looking for anyone unfamiliar and smiled when she spotted two ladies wearing elegant dresses along with sour expressions. _They obviously think themselves far above their company and are not afraid of displaying their opinion!_

One lady was very tall with dark eyes and copper hair piled upon her head under a turban adorned with long feathers protruding from the top, which seemed to increase her height considerably. Though she had an air of fashionable beauty at first glance, upon further consideration Elizabeth decided that her nose, chin, and jaw line were too pronounced. Even her cheekbones seemed to have sharp edges, making her appear quite shrewish. Her expertly fashioned orange silk dress was not complementary to her hair colour or skin tone in the least, and Elizabeth was surprised that a lady so obviously interested in the latest fashions would put so little thought into colour. Whether or not orange was _the _colour this season should not matter if, when worn, it caused one to look as if her person clashed with her clothing.

The lady beside her was more petite than her companion. She had beautifully arranged hair the colour of buttered toast. Elizabeth had to stifle a laugh when she noticed the feathers that were interlaced into the arrangement of her hair, as the general impression they produced reminded Elizabeth more of a peacock than a woman. The lady was critically eying the crowd in the assembly hall, especially the other ladies. It seemed that she was examining the fashions of the local populace and was not at all happy with what she found. The green silk of her beautifully crafted gown well-suited this lady, though it was unfortunate that the shade did not go well with the colour her friend was wearing since they seemed intent on standing together.

Jane was dancing with a pleasant looking, tallish, golden-haired gentleman. His light blue eyes shone with admiration as he gazed at Elizabeth's sister. _Ah, another man madly 'in love at first sight' with my Jane! If he will be paying his attentions to her, I certainly hope he is more intelligent than Mr. Smythe was!_ He had a smile which was so genuine that one could not but feel that he was a good-natured young man. Even from this distance, Elizabeth could plainly see by the way Jane was smiling that she was taken with him as well. Jane had not moved her eyes from the gentleman's face since her sister had begun her observation of them.

And there, sitting quite close to the refreshment table, was a dark-haired, red-faced, heavyset man, fashionably dressed, who seemed to be taking more pleasure indulging in the available food and drink than in any other entertainment offered this evening.

Elizabeth saw one other unfamiliar gentleman, facing away from her at present, standing near where she sat. Judging from what she could see of him from _this _angle, Elizabeth was quite interested in observing him from other aspects. He was very tall and attractively built, extremely well-dressed with unruly curls in his chocolate brown hair. She kept her eyes upon him, hoping he would turn so that she could see him better.

When he did turn to look about, she was not disappointed, her breath catching in her chest. Elizabeth was taken aback by how strikingly handsome he was, even though she perceived that he appeared to be struggling to keep strong emotions hidden from his features. She speculated on how his countenance would improve when graced with a smile and was interested in seeing it happen. She felt oddly drawn to him in a way she had never before experienced—it was an urgent, almost physical, need to be near him. Elizabeth felt she would have to guard her actions carefully or she would find herself drifting closer to him to satisfy this impulse.

Elizabeth watched as the man closed his eyes for a moment, as if in painful sadness. It shocked her because, briefly, she _felt _the strong emotions that flitted across his face. Quickly, his expression darkened and as he opened his eyes, she wondered what thoughts could be causing such a deep scowl.

Being extremely shy, Darcy would normally rather avoid situations such as these. His foul mood was not helping, especially now that _she_ did not magically appear before him (NOT that he was expecting her to, of course). Darcy wanted only to melt away into the background. Tuning out his surroundings, he became lost in his own thoughts, contemplating his sister's state of mind as a result of the events at Ramsgate which had transpired several weeks prior.

The guilt over his failure to protect his sister was intense. What Georgiana's companion, Mrs. Annesley, had said about the effects of his more recent actions on his sister was also deeply disconcerting. Darcy had not realized that his almost constant attentions to his sister ("hovering," as Mrs. Annesley had termed it) were making Georgiana even more ashamed of what almost had happened. His acceptance of Bingley's invitation to Hertfordshire was based upon Mrs. Annesley's recommendation that a separation would do them both good.

At the time Bingley had informed him of his newly leased property, Darcy had been torn between the need to assist his sister through her difficult recovery and the ability to offer the benefit of years of experience with his own estate to his good friend. After Mrs. Annesley voiced her concerns, his choice was clear. He would attend Bingley in his new enterprise.

So absorbed was he in his pain that he almost forgot where he was. No matter what Mrs. Annesley had said, tonight, in this jovial atmosphere, he was becoming overwhelmed with the thought that he had abandoned Georgiana in her time of need. As this feeling enveloped him, Darcy closed his eyes and _The Mask_ fell away. His expression ended as a scowl as he contemplated his perceived inadequacy.

Just then, Bingley walked over to him. From experience, he knew what was coming next, and Darcy sighed. Being in these surroundings was enough to make him irritable, but in addition, the subject of his thoughts had made Darcy considerably cross, and he would have said _anything _to have Bingley leave him be at that moment. Later, when he had taken time to reflect on the evening, he realized that none of this excused what happened next.

"Come, Darcy," said Bingley, "I can see what you are about. You had much better dance."

_Oh please, Bingley, LEAVE ME ALONE! _Darcy's inner voice screamed, but he said aloud, "I certainly shall not. You know how I dislike the activity. It would be a punishment to stand up with anyone in this assembly."

After Bingley's assertion that there were several uncommonly pretty girls in the room, Darcy tried to distract him by commenting upon Bingley's partner.

"Oh! She is the most beautiful creature I ever beheld!" Darcy discreetly glanced at the clock, noting it took little more than twenty minutes to make the declaration this time, a shorter time than all previous records. Bingley continued, "But there is one of her sisters, Miss Elizabeth, sitting down just behind you. Do let me ask my partner to introduce you."

Darcy played his part and made a show of looking around him, but he was not interested and so did not look at anyone in particular. He coldly replied, "She is tolerable, but not handsome enough to tempt me. I am in no humour at present to give consequence to young ladies who are slighted by other men. You had better return to your partner and enjoy her smiles, for you are wasting your time with me."

Bingley followed his advice and returned to the dance.

Soon after this exchange, a lady came from behind and passed close in front of him. It was the Angel of Oakham Mount! Her hair was more elaborately arranged, and she was much more formally attired than she had been when he last had seen her, but he had dreamt of her every night and had seen her face in his mind at any time he closed his eyes for the last fortnight—there was no doubt that this was the same woman. It seemed impossible to him, but she was even more beautiful in person than in his memory.

As she passed, their eyes met for the briefest of moments; his breath caught in his chest, and he would swear his heart had stopped beating.

Those eyes! He had never before seen that shade of green—it was exquisite! How could any earthbound creature not want, not _need_, to become lost in those eyes forever? Her eyes were also extremely expressive. From them, he was certain that Bingley had been speaking of her, and that she had overheard what had been said, especially Darcy's insulting phrases. Those eyes were sparkling with intelligence and wit, but they were also laughing—at him.

Miss Elizabeth, Bingley had said—Miss Bennet's sister. Miss Elizabeth Bennet. _Elizabeth!_ Even her name had a sensuous, celestial quality about it! How magnificent she was! No, he would never think upon her as Miss Bennet or even Miss Elizabeth. After the way she had made him feel in the two brief moments he had seen her thus far, it was simply impossible to think of her as anything but _Elizabeth_.

When she turned and crossed the ballroom, a part of his heart felt as if it had been torn away, to be _hers _forever. He could not take his eyes from her form as she stopped near another young lady and whispered to her. The two of them laughed as Elizabeth's gaze found his—and his heart sank.

Ridicule was the very last thing Darcy wanted to attract from anyone, but to be ridiculed by Elizabeth as a result of the most deceitful comment that had ever passed his lips was insupportable, though he felt it was rightly deserved.

_OH! What an utter fool I have been! How could I have voiced those words? What blasphemy! There is only one thing to do. I must seek her out and apologize immediately! _Remembering the earlier incident with Mrs. Bennet, he shook his head. _Oh, yes, good going, Darcy! Not only have I insulted __**her**__, but I have also insulted __**her mother**__!_

The situation caused a rare and long buried side of his personality to surface, the dreaded "Darcy Impulsiveness," which, after a most embarrassing incident as a young man, had been under strict regulation for so many years that even Bingley had never been witness to this behaviour. Before he knew what he was about, he had crossed the room and stood before her.

It was then, albeit too late, that he recalled that he had never been introduced to the lady. Talking to her would be a major breach of propriety and would only make the situation worse than it already was. Nor had he any idea of what to say! He blushed profusely, knowing he was standing before her in a stupid manner. At a word from her friend, Elizabethturned toward him.

~%~

Elizabeth's disappointment had been great upon hearing that this extremely attractive man, whom she had been admiring for the past minutes, had thought her "not handsome enough to tempt him." She tried to push this thought aside by jesting about it to Charlotte, but as she did this, Elizabeth looked across the room toward the gentleman. The pain that she had seen displayed upon his countenance earlier in the evening seemed mild compared to what she saw there now. Though she remained deeply wounded by his statement, she could not help but feel guilt for laughing at him.

Elizabeth quickly looked away as she softly confessed, "Charlotte, I should not have behaved so rudely! I know it was wrong of him to speak of me in that way, but I saw how something terrible was troubling him earlier. I have now succeeded in making the evening worse for the gentleman."

Charlotte saw that Darcy had crossed the room and was standing close by, staring at Elizabeth, and displaying the brightest blush Charlotte had ever seen. She motioned toward Darcy while saying, "Lizzy?"

Confused, Elizabeth turned toward her friend, only to find herself facing the gentleman in question, and she became completely mesmerized by the sight of him standing before her.

~%~

Darcy's air was one of apprehension. When Elizabeth turned and met his eyes, he was pleasantly surprised as a wave of tranquility washed over him. He had expected to feel even more nervous in her presence than he did with others unknown to him, but being near her calmed him instead. He felt as if he had come home after being away for a great length of time. _S__he has already proved to be the most fascinating person I have ever met, and I have yet to hear her speak!_

As the two continued staring at each other in silence, Charlotte took pity and made the introduction. "Mr. Darcy, may I introduce my good friend, Miss Elizabeth Bennet of Longbourn? Lizzy, please meet Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy of Pemberley, Derbyshire."

Darcy started when Charlotte began to speak, and the young lady hid her smile at his reaction. Obviously, Darcy had been so focused on Elizabeth that he had not even noticed she was there!

Darcy bowed. "Thank you Miss Lucas. Miss Bennet, it is a pleasure to meet you."

"I am pleased to meet you as well, Mr. Darcy." Elizabeth dropped a curtsy. _So __**this **__is Fitzwilliam Darcy, about whom I have heard so much!_

"Miss Bennet, will you permit me to apologize for something I believe you overheard a few minutes ago? Had I known to which lady my friend was referring, I surely would have chosen a different subject to deter his efforts, for I would not have been able to utter words which are so far from being true." He shifted from foot to foot. _Incredible! I have not said that much in a ballroom in my entire life! I managed to compliment her, as well, did I not?_

"Yes, I did hear your conversation, sir, though not intentionally. Your apology is accepted, Mr. Darcy." Elizabeth's face lit up with a brilliant smile.

Darcy's eyes opened wider._ How does she manage to become more beautiful every moment I look upon her?_ Just then, he noticed the music for the next dance beginning and before he knew what he was about, he had spoken, "Will you do me the honour of dancing the next with me, Miss Bennet?"

Her smile widened, "Yes, I would be happy to, Mr. Darcy. Excuse us, Charlotte." When their hands met, they both stopped as if stunned for a moment before Charlotte cleared her throat, bringing the couple back to reality.

Elizabeth felt very strange—but pleasantly so. There was a sort of tingling warmth beginning where he touched her gloved hand which slowly spread throughout her being. She wondered if everyone in Meryton could hear her heart beating.

As they walked away, Charlotte found herself hiding her smile as she thought, _Ah, Lizzy, he is already in love with you! Well done!_


	4. Chapter 3- Sample of Published version

_Dreams and Expectations_

has been re-written and published (yippee!)

The following is part

of the **published** version of the story.

Dreams & Expectations Copyright © 2010 Wendi Sotis

* * *

**Chapter 3**

Their dance had been extraordinary. At first, the warmth that enveloped Elizabeth's body and soul every time he touched her hand along with the look in his eyes whenever he caught hers in his gaze were all that occupied her mind. All around them were forgotten; it seemed as if they two were in the assembly hall dancing alone.

Jane was partnered by one of the Lucas boys and the movement of the dance had brought Jane in their direction. As she passed close by, Jane's voice startled Elizabeth from her enchantment as she whispered, "Lizzy, it is being spoken of…" she hesitated as the dance took her away from Elizabeth for a moment, "It is unlike you not to converse with your dance partner, and your doing such is attracting attention." Jane smiled a knowing smile and then whispered in an even lower tone on her next pass, "Mr. Darcy _is_ very handsome!" Elizabeth blushed, but understood the implications of her beloved sister's whispered warning.

Elizabeth returned her attention to her partner. "Mr. Darcy, we must have some conversation. It would seem quite odd for us to be entirely silent for half an hour together."

Her statement would give him the opportunity to introduce a topic of great interest to him. The healthy glow of her skin affirmed that Elizabeth enjoyed spending time out of doors, and he hoped to glean information on the haunts that she preferred so that perhaps during his daily rides he would come across her again, as he had two weeks prior. "Since my arrival in the neighbourhood, I have enjoyed exploring the countryside surrounding Netherfield by horseback. Having visited Oakham Mount, and being quite pleased with the beauty I have come across there," he paused as his eyes twinkled with secret delight at the double-meaning of his words—that only _he_ would understand, "I was wondering… can you recommend other sights in this vicinity that should not be missed, Miss Bennet?"

"Being a great walker and quite fond of nature, I have found many places worthy of notice—Oakham Mount being among my favourites. I find it would be difficult to direct you to most of them, especially since you are unfamiliar with the area. For instance, if I told you to take the path by Johnson's cedar northward and follow Conroy's creek until you come across the split beech, you probably could not make any sense of it!" Elizabeth's amused look turned to one of bafflement as she tried to think of a way to give him directions to some of her favourite places.

"I, too, am fond of nature. Perhaps we can arrange for a riding party and you can introduce to us the finer vistas of the area?" Darcy suggested.

"Oh—I am sorry, Mr. Darcy, but I do not ride." Elizabeth blushed. She could not ride sidesaddle and she had heard enough criticism from her mother on how improper it was for a lady to "ride like a man" that she never wished to expose herself to such censure again!

Darcy remembered how much time he had spent with Georgiana teaching her how to ride and before he knew what he was saying, he had blurted out, "I can teach you." His colour rose when he realized how improper the offer had been. "I was only thinking… I taught my sister…" he stuttered.

There was no trace of reproach upon Elizabeth's countenance, putting him once again at ease. "I thank you, sir, but I must decline. Though a walking party might be arranged, I doubt there are many who would enjoy walking out over the distances required for the group to see most of the places I have in mind — especially this time of year. There are a few closer to Netherfield that I could lead the way to… _if_ we could find a few who are interested in what most would consider a long walk. Charlotte perhaps, and my sister Jane might be willing, but I cannot think of anyone else who would agree to the scheme. Do you know if a long walk would appeal to any of your party?"

Darcy was ecstatic that she had not taken offence to the slip born of his impulsive eagerness to spend time with her and had suggested an alternative instead. "I do believe Bingley would agree to go, though I do not think Mr. Hurst would enjoy a walk if it does not involve shooting. I am uncertain about Bingley's sisters."

The music ended and the dancers bowed to their partners. Darcy escorted Elizabeth to where Charlotte Lucas was still standing. "Perhaps this evening we can arrange an outing for a day in the near future." Elizabeth smiled brightly at Darcy, and then turned to Charlotte. "Charlotte? Would you have an interest in accompanying a group of us on a tour of my favourite walks in the area surrounding Netherfield?"

"It sounds delightful! You _will_ be kind to those of us who are not accustomed to the extended marches you enjoy, will you not, Lizzy? I believe I have not yet fully recovered from the one I accompanied you on last spring." Charlotte laughed.

Charlotte's brother John, two years younger than Elizabeth, escorted Jane from the dance and they joined the group. Both were introduced to Darcy.

After being introduced to Miss Bennet, Darcy was secretly relieved at no longer having to remember to say "Miss Bennet" when referring to Elizabeth, though he would much prefer having the right to call her "Elizabeth" instead of the socially correct "Miss Elizabeth" for a younger sister.

Bingley seemed to appear from nowhere, his eyes not leaving Jane's blushing countenance except when he was introduced to those yet unknown to him. The subject of the walking party was renewed and all agreed to attend except John Lucas, who would soon be returning to school. Upon Bingley's suggestion, since the weather had been unusually warm for that time of year, the plan was amended to include a stop along the way for a picnic.

Jane said, "It is kind of you to acquaint the Bingleys and Mr. Darcy with the hidden beauties on the grounds of Netherfield, Lizzy. There are many that you alone would know about. I am delighted to be included in the scheme. Will you take us to see the grove that Mr. Smythe planted? It would be interesting to see how it has progressed since I have seen it last."

"Mr. Smythe? Is he a neighbour to whom we have not yet been introduced?" Bingley inquired.

Charlotte replied, "Mr. Smythe was the former tenant at Netherfield, Mr. Bingley, though he had given up the lease two years past." Charlotte's eyes darted to Jane causing her to blush deeply, revealing to Darcy that there was most likely a bit of history there.

Just then, Caroline Bingley and Louisa Hurst _happened_ to be passing by the group. "Mr. Darcy!" Caroline called out while carefully eyeing the ladies surrounding him for potential rivals. Seeming to decide that she was superior to all assembled, the lady raised her chin and looked down her nose at the others. "Louisa and I had given up on your returning to our party and have come in search of you." Caroline latched on to the gentleman's arm, quite obviously staking her claim. Elizabeth did not miss the look of annoyance which momentarily crossed Darcy's features before he regained control.

Elizabeth's eyes expressed a touch of amusement mixed with understanding and sympathy as Darcy's once again locked with hers.

_H__ow does she do that to the rhythm of my heart with only a glance?_he thought.

Caroline continued, "Charles, did I hear you invite guests to Netherfield without soliciting my opinion beforehand? A _picnic—_this late in the year? Really, Brother! What _were_ you thinking?" Caroline almost whined.

With some difficulty, Bingley tore his attention away from Jane. "Caroline! Louisa! I am happy you have joined us. May I introduce you to our new neighbours?" He then performed the necessary introductions. "We are to host a walking party to explore the area surrounding Netherfield. I had expanded the plan to include a picnic just now, due to the warm weather of late. When the date arrives, if the weather is too cool, we could arrange to have the meal at Netherfield. Do you not agree that it is a splendid scheme?"

Not at all satisfied with her brother's reply, Caroline's indignation was evident as she addressed her next question to Darcy. "How on earth did such a plan come into being?"

Darcy replied, "During our dance, Miss Elizabeth graciously offered to lead a walking party to introduce us to the beauties surrounding Netherfield."

"Miss Eliza!" Caroline noticed Elizabeth flinch a little. "How… _interesting_ for you to make such an offer." The scowl Caroline wore, and her accompanying tone of voice, insinuated that Elizabeth had improper motives. In the same moment, Caroline tightened her grip on Darcy's arm, moving so that her form was firmly pressed against his side.

Darcy's eyes widened briefly and he stepped away from her slightly, extending his arm further away from him so that she could not repeat the action.

One of Elizabeth's eyebrows rose as her back straightened and her chin jutted out just a bit—it was all so subtle, but Darcy was struck with the impression that she was instinctively readying herself for battle in response to the accusation that Caroline had implied. In the next moment, Darcy was relieved when he saw amusement return to her eyes.

_How intriguing! __Darcy thought, __Studying Elizabeth's elusive responses could become a captivating occupation._

Caroline began to speak again, addressing her brother but directing her gaze at Elizabeth, "Charles, it is very generous of you to indulge Miss Eliza in her _plans_, but I am not fond of long walks."

Something that Darcy could not quite identify flitted across Elizabeth's features as she responded, "I have been thinking… Miss Bingley, I would limit our tour to an informal trail that I have walked many times very close to Netherfield. There are hidden beauties nearby, and I do believe that _anyone_ would enjoy seeing them. Perhaps afterwards we all would enjoy a carriage ride to Oakham Mount and have our picnic there? The view is lovely, as I am certain Mr. Darcy will attest to." She looked to Bingley for approval of the plan, being careful _not_ to direct her gaze directly at Darcy while Caroline Bingley was scrutinizing her every move.

Always thinking like an estate owner, Darcy added, "It would be an improvement to the grounds, Bingley, to fashion a more permanent path through a series of interesting locales."

"Yes, I think it a very agreeable plan, Miss Elizabeth! I do hope you _all_ will be able to attend." Bingley replied with a pointed look at Jane. "We will send a note around to Longbourn and Lucas Lodge once we have set the date, will we not, Caroline?"

Elizabeth had not thought it possible for Caroline to raise her chin any higher, but somehow she managed to accomplish it, and then she moved her head in such a way that it could have been understood any way that the others chose. Elizabeth met Charlotte's gaze and almost burst out laughing when she saw that her good friend was struggling to suppress a smile—indicating that she, too, had recognized that movement as similar to one that her sister Lydia used when placating their mother whenever she had absolutely no intention of committing herself to whatever had just been suggested by the matron.

John Lucas held claim to Elizabeth's next set, and so when the music began again, he led his partner to the floor. She was more than happy to leave Miss Bingley's presence, but found herself distracted away from her current partner by remembrances of the former set.

A few minutes into the dance, which Caroline could not help but notice that Darcy had spent watching Elizabeth—and ignoring herself—the lady made several remarks that led Darcy to offer to fetch her some punch. Darcy was happy for any opportunity to remove his arm from her tight, almost painful, grip, leaving Caroline and Louisa standing alone.

Having little to do this evening but agree with her sister as she rambled on with her complaints, Louisa had been observing her siblings' new neighbours. That Miss Bennet and Miss Elizabeth were different from the company she and Caroline usually kept was obvious, but in Louisa's opinion, they differed in a way that made her look forward to knowing them better. It would be a refreshing change to spend time with ladies that were well mannered but _not_ artificial and stiff, as were most associations that Caroline chose for them. Louisa felt that with _these_ ladies, she would not always have to fear duplicity in their motives and she could actually see them as becoming friends. Noticing Elizabeth's reaction to Caroline calling her "Eliza," she did not wish her sister to insult the lady by calling her by a name she did not like.

"Caroline, I think you should be told… judging by her reaction, I do not believe that Miss Elizabeth is fond of being called 'Eliza.'"

"Yes, dear sister, I _did_ notice." Caroline snickered.

Louisa recognized the look in her sister's eyes and sighed with genuine disappointment. Knowing Caroline as well as she did, she should have been forewarned that Darcy's request to dance with Miss Elizabeth would have such disastrous results as these—Caroline had declared "war" on Miss Elizabeth Bennet.

* * *

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